


Our language in scar tissue

by KallistoKrow



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Branding, F/F, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Pre-Canon, Ripley is Her Own Warning, Romantic Soulmates, Shared Scars, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-10-01 13:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KallistoKrow/pseuds/KallistoKrow
Summary: It was inevitable that some soulmates were born years apart from each other. Inevitable that one of the pair would be born with scars already tracing what should be unmarked skin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just something that's been rattling around in my head for a while. For those of you waiting for the next chapter of TCoF it should be up soon. Writers block and upper respiratory problems have been kicking my butt lately.  
> This is probably going to be pretty short but I hope you enjoy. As always I own nothing Critical Role.

(Vax)

For Vax'ildan and his sister Vex'ahlia, the subject of soulmates was a complicated one to say the least. It had been a fact of life for as long as either of them could remember.

It was inevitable that some soulmates were born years apart from each other. Inevitable that one of the pair would be born with scars already tracing what should be unmarked skin. It was clear that this was the case with Vex'ahlia from an early age. As far back as Vax could remember, his sister had born scars that she had never received an injury for. As far back as he could remember he would turn to her, upon hearing a gasp of pain, to find her clutching her arm or side as a new scar carved it’s way across her skin. Vax _hated_ his sister’s soulmate.

He had learned quickly never to voice that opinion too loudly. His mother would only sign, her eyes filled with a sad understanding. And Vex’ahlia would shout at him that he couldn’t possibly understand. It was the biggest point of contention between the twins. One that caused an unwelcome divide between the siblings that only fueled Vax’s anger. He didn’t understand why Vex'ahlia and his mother would defend this person who they didn’t even know. This person who they didn’t owe anything to. This person who was  _ hurting his sister.  _

Vax is five years old the first time he feels his soulmate. 

Of course he doesn’t realize that was what it was at the time. His whole life he has associated the entire concept with pain. But this… this was as far from pain as the young half-elf could imagine. It was as if someone had poured something bright and molten into his mind, his body. It seeped through his blood and into his bones. Filling crevices and empty places inside that he hadn’t even known needed to be filled. Or even existed. Vex had run for their mother when he had fallen to the ground, tears welling unheeded in his eyes, unable to process what was happening.

They had both held him as he had shaken and cried himself out. Half formed apologies to his sister spilling from his lips.

Later their mother would explain that the things he was feeling was his soulmate being born. That he would only feel this again when the pair actually met.

Vax heard her words but it would be years before he fully understood what that meant.

 

* * *

(Percy)

For Percival the feeling of having a soulmate was one that one so instinctive that for a long time it was taken for granted. It was only later that he learned how unusual it really was. They were rare his father had explained. King, or hero, or peasant, no one could control or predict who would be marked. Not even the gods were immune. The story of the tumultuous courtship of the Lawbearer and the Wild Mother was one he and his brothers and sisters had been told in the temples.  


None of Percy’s siblings had soulmates. This wasn’t unusual, even with a family as large as his. For the most part he hadn’t thought much of it himself. Whitney had been the one who thought it was so romantic. For Percy, it didn’t really sink in until one day while playing in Whitestone’s courtyard with his siblings when he had felt a sudden burst of pain in his left wrist and for a moment he swore he could hear the harsh snap of bone breaking.

It had hurt. He remembers that much. The unexpectedness of it making the pain all the more shocking and he had let out a scream that had frightened Vesper and the twins. Afterwards it had been a blur but not for the reason he would have expected. It was that day that he learned that pain was not the only thing that could be shared over a connection.

As the pulsepoint of shock and agony had raced along his forearm he had felt something else as well. Something that wrapped around him like a shroud. Numbing and distracting him from the pain.

Surprise. A growing sense of guilt. And strangely entwined with the other emotions. A deep, fierce joy.

Percy had barely understood what he was doing as his mind tried to reach out. Straining against the confines of his own skull.  _ It’s alright,  _ he tried to say.  _ It was an accident. It’s okay. _

He doesn’t think he’s successful in his attempt at comfort. It’s never been his strong suit in any case. His mother said it was because he was too honest for the white lies that were necessary for some kindnesses.

The alien feeling of guilt had only strengthened before fading entirely, and he was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update that actually came on time? What is this madness?   
> Still feels very weird publishing these very short chapters, hope you don't mind. As always, I own nothing.

(Vax)

Vax cannot bring himself to like Vex’s soulmate. Scars still trace over his sister’s skin, though less often the before and most of them are quick to fade. In the past few years however he’s found it harder and harder to hate them. It’s hard to hate someone after you’ve grown to understand them. He has found it much easier to hate himself a bit.

The exchange of pain between a soul bond is supposed to be equal. Balanced in the way that when one is hurt the other can soothe and share the pain. Some of the stronger bonds were said to even able to heal. And he has felt scars trace his body. Has felt the echo of the injury that brought them. He’s tried press as much care and forgiveness as he can across their bond. It doesn’t feel equal though. For one thing he’s older than his mate. More likely to hurt himself in ways that someone who’s still a child shouldn’t feel.

He barely noticed the nicks and cuts he gives himself as he learns to wield his elvish knives until a particularly careless mistake earns him a deep slice into his forearm and he feels the echoing surprise from across the link. He barely hears his instructor’s scolding as he hastens to stem the flow of blood. Briefly extending the length of the transfer as pain shoots up their arms at the pressure. He tries to press the emotions behind his apology across the bond. Only to be interrupted by a wave that is equal parts fondness and exasperation.

He’s being foolish in his worry, he knows that. Vex has been sure to hammer that in, and if they could communicate with actual words he’s sure his soulmate would be telling him the same. Still… the guilt lingers.

 

* * *

 

(Percy)

It wouldn’t take a very clever person to figure out that Percy’s soulmate did not lead an easy life. While many of the scars that form across his body are small and quick to fade in the following days or weeks after they were received. They tend to be frequent and the ones that remain bespoke genuine danger. 

It had been something his parents had explained early on and that Percy had learned first hand. Smaller injuries like paper cuts and bruises often don’t make it across the bond, while things like fractures or cuts that will scar fade over time with relatively brief flashes of pain. Severe injuries leave permanent scars on both parties that can sometimes be mental as well as physical.

Percy had been quick to intuit that his partner seemed to favor close quarter combat. The numerous but tiny sparks of pain that he experienced in his hands and arms made him suspect knife work. While other injuries were difficult to pinpoint the source of.

Percy found that it was not the pain that bothered him so much as the uncertainty. The vagueness inherent in the nature of an incomplete bond was frustrating.

Part of him chafed at the idea that he had no choice in being bound and forced to care for a person he had never met. He could not however deny that he  _ had  _ grown to care for his bondmate, despite knowing next to nothing about them. He couldn’t deny that he wished that he could just tell them that he didn’t begrudge them the hurts that they had caused him. He couldn’t deny the moment of raw fear that flooded him the first time he’d felt something sharp score a line across his ribs. Despite having never felt it, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that someone had just deliberately drawn a blade across his soulmate’s side. And judging from the way it caused him to stagger, it had gone deep.

“No.” The word came out half choked as a mix of fear, anger, and determination flooded his mind and then, just as quickly, began to fade.

“Damn it!” He slammed his hand down on his work table. What was the point of feeling it when his mate was hurt if he couldn’t do anything to help?

Several minutes later he felt a jolt of soreness in the same place and his hand fell back to his side only to find that the position of his hand matched the bloom of pain across his ribs almost exactly. They were both pressing down on the injury in the same way. Though the emotions that were pushed across the bond were less sharp than before, lacking in immediate danger.

There was a sense of relief and gratitude threaded in with an apology. Percy focused on pushing forward his own relieved frustration through the quickly closing link. As it faded he thought he felt the faintest hint of an understanding sadness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, stream of conciseness chapter brought on by sleep deprivation and bottle baby sheep. The next one should have some actual plot.  
> As always I own nothing CR, I just like playing with their characters.

(Vax)

The twins are almost fourteen when they run away from home.

No, not home. Home would imply that it had been a place they had been welcomed in, wanted. Home would have been their mother’s house where they had lived since the age of ten when their father had learned of them. Syngorn was _not_ home.

It had been shelter however in it’s own way. Vax and his sister had not gone hungry there at least. Which could not be said for a life of two young teenagers on the road. Or in the woods or the streets as the case sometimes was.

It was temporary, they had thought. Something they could brave through until they reached their mother’s village. Then they could make a decision. The dragon changes all that. The dragon changes everything.

Vax had seen the way his sister had changed during their time in Syngorn. She had grown to care about things that had never seemed to bother her before. As half-elves they were used to getting second looks. Curiosity that bordered on wariness at times. Among the elves they were half-humans, ill-born. Something for their father to be ashamed of.

Vex had always been practical, better able to remove herself in some ways then her twin. She had never been cruel. Vax still doesn’t think she is; but there is a coolness to her now that had not been there before. An aloof haughtiness that cracks on occasion, allowing Vax to see the uncertainty beneath and the fear.

She doesn't speak of her soulmate as much as she once did. Vax doesn’t either for the most part, in deference. He understands why. Despite sharing a bond, there are few reliable ways to find ones mate and some never meet at all.

Still… he hopes.

 

* * *

 

(Percy)

Percy’s first kiss was with a girl with yellow hair. She had a rather long, thin face and she worked in the kitchens and smiled at him often. She plants a shy kiss in his mouth during a harvest celebration during which everyone had consumed copious amounts of cider and Julius had managed to swipe a partial bottle of their father’s brandy.  Only Vesper had liked it very much.

Years later, Percy will forget her name. Nessa or Tessa perhaps. He does remember that her mouth tasted like apples and that he had thought she was pretty despite hearing another boy call her horse faced.

He thinks about his soulmate when he kisses her back. He knows that isn’t very gentlemanly but he can’t help himself. He wonders if kissing them would be anything like this. If it would be better. If they had thought of him during their first kiss. Surely they’d already had theirs, they were older then him after all.

It’s not forbidden in any culture so far as Percy is aware. Many people have relationships before meeting their fated partner. It hadn't felt wrong exactly. Awkward certainty. As most firsts normally do. It had just been a kiss.

He sees her dancing with another girl later that night. Her long hair creating a spinning banner of gold in the firelight. He wonders what color hair his bondmate has. He hopes it’s long like hers had been. He doesn’t look for the girl again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clasp tightens

(Percy)

He’s lucky that he’s alone when it hits him. He had been preparing for bed rather early for once, having stayed up far into the morning the night before in his workshop. The stabbing pain in his shoulder was the first warning he received, followed swiftly by a spitting blow across the knuckles of his right hand.

Percy knows how to throw a punch. He knows the feeling of it going wrong. So the desperation the accompanies the awkward blow explains a lot.

They’re scared. He can feel that in the acrid taste of fear that suddenly fills his mouth, in the way that adrenaline is suddenly coursing through his limbs in a way he’s never felt before. Something has gone wrong. Something has gone _very_ wrong _and there’s nothing he can do._

After a few more blows he naively thinks that maybe they’ve managed to escape and then… then…

Percy has burned himself before. Down in his workshop. Especially in the beginning when he was first learning. He never exactly enjoy passing _any_ type of pain across his soul bond but he thought he regretted the burns the most. The pain was always so prolonged even if he had been fortunate enough so far to avoid any major damage as a result of his accidents.

This _wasn’t_ and accidental burn.

He’s lucky he thinks later. Lucky he didn’t scream like he wanted to and probably wake the whole castle. Lucky that the shock of it sealed something in his throat, leaving his lips parted in a soundless wail.

He could feel them. Feel them more clearly then he ever had before. He could almost pick out their voice as they sobbed in pain and apology through their own agony as their back _burned._

_“I’m sorry. Gods, I’m so sorry. I had too. She’s my sister, I had too.”_

For once, Percy doesn’t answer. Not even as he had felt his mate’s guilt and despair coiling in his own chest.

He had lain curled in a ball on the floor where he’d fallen. Teeth digging into the flesh of his hand to muffle his own cries.

 

* * *

 

(Vax)

Vax is not sure how it’s possible to receive the cold shoulder from someone he’s never really even spoken to before, but his soulmate is somehow managing it.

It’s been a little over two weeks since Vax had been dragged before the Clasp. Since the sick son of a bitch who’d been trying to kidnap Vex had been sent off in her place. Since their mark had been branded into the skin of his back.

Most operatives received tattoos after proving their loyalty Vax had learned.

He was a different case. His had been a lesson. A reminder of the service he now ‘owed’ them.

Vax sighed, scrubbing a hand across his aching eyes. Sleep had not come easy these past days and if he wasn’t careful he was going to pay for it in a clumsy mistake. Still, he had been volunteering for watch duty more often than usual despite Vex’ahlia’s protests. The simple fact was that between his nightmares and his waking worries he could not seem to make his mind shut down enough to get any type of decent rest.

His mate had been clumsy as of late, or careless. Vax has been feeling various sharp pains in his hands. One of them felt like it had come from a hammer blow that had come close to breaking a finger. Still, any attempts he had made to lend comfort has been buskly rebuffed.

Shifting in his seat he winces at the fabric of his shirt catches on the still raw skin on his back. A clasp cleric had partially healed the burn to stop it from becoming infected but they had left it smarting and scaring.

Something brushes against the corner of his consciousness. Like a finger, run lightly over the rim of a glass. Vax freezes and waits. Nothing.

Hesitantly he reaches back and presses lightly against the burn mark with just enough pressure to make it twinge. Again, the answering presence is light and almost hesitant. He can’t quite pick out any individual emotions, much less the words that he had heard when he’s first received the injury but the simple fact that he’s getting an answer at all sends relief through his whole body.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers. There’s no response but he hadn’t expected one.

Later when he wakes his sister for her turn on watch, as he settles down near the fire it’s far easier to let his eyes close and sleep to claim his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So umm... Ripley sucks, but we knew this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Stumbles in crying and full of feels after watching the VM kickstarter pushed over 4 million.   
> You people are insane and and I love you so much.  
> ....  
> So...  
> Have some angst.  
> *ducks for cover and runs

(Vax)

There had been nothing unique about the night that it began. There was no ominous feeling of foreboding. No creeping chill or premonition that would have occurred in the two for a copper romances that Vax had occasionally perused out of boredom. The days leading up to it had been rather pleasant in fact. They had gotten rooms a comfortable inn before heading out again and the food had been a welcome break from trail rations. The air that night had even softened from the chill bite it had possessed recently and Vax found himself falling asleep with relative ease.

Vax has heard words come through his soul bond once and only once. “ _ Please, stop. Make them stop! Why are you letting them do this?”  _ Th e words had echoed through his mind without him even hearing their voice. He hadn’t been able to tell if his mate was male or female, or if they had an accent, or even if they spoke a different language. It had been all intonation and no sound but they has sliced though his mind as keenly as any blade. 

He thinks he might hate the Clasp more for that than anything else. He has hoped he would never hear his soulmate like that again. It’s not really surprising he reflects later that it was not a wish that was granted.

It was hours still from dawn when he came awake with a strangled cry on his lips and tears already staining his cheeks. With each inhale the copper and salt scent of blood fills his nose. He feels Vex’ahlia at his side, trying to drag him out of the ball he has curled himself into as he slept. Her hands patting him down frantically.

“Where is it? Vax, listen to me. Where?”

“It’s- not. It isn’t-” his word's come out broken as he tries to explain to her that there’s no physical wound that’s causing this. “Wrong.” he gasps out. “Something’s wrong.” 

“Vax-” she breaks off as he doubles over from his sitting position as the bond flares in his mind like a white hot brand.

_ He’s running, his feet slipping on the floor and he nearly falls. The carpet is wet with something that is not water and it soaks his unshod feet. He tries not to look a the dark mass sprawled in the hall leading to his sister’s room. The door is open. Vesper. Vesper. Vesper. _

“Sister.” he whispers, not sure if he’s talking to Vex or his soulmate’s sibling. There is a sudden splitting pain at the back of his head that is shockingly and unquestionably physical and the bond abruptly goes silent.

Vax is not sure how long he lays slumped in Vex’s arms, her hands stroking gently through his hair. He doesn’t remember what he says to her. At some point his eyes fall shut he doses.

It’s hours later as the sun is just about to break the horizon that the screams begin.

 

* * *

 

(Percy)

Percival is drowning.

The water is ice and his limbs were barely in any shape to respond to him before he went into the river. He’s not sure if the ripples in his vision indicate bubbles telling him where the surface is. It hardly matters.

He’s going to die here. 

_ "Please _ ." The voice is weak. Gods, they're both so weak from trying to hold on for so long. “ _ Please, fight. Please.”  _

Percy closes his eyes. He remembers:

_ She’s using her knife today. She’s a mage, that much he knows, but she seems just as comfortable with the slim surgical blades that she keeps clean and neat in a small leather case.  _

_ Shadows move and he feels her warm, sweet breath at his ear. He flinches as he feels cool, gentle fingers smooth his hair back from his brow. He hadn't seen the movement. She always preferred removing his glasses before she began.  _

_ “This really isn’t necessary.” Her voice is so soft, so calm. Always so calm. There’s something almost trancelike about his sessions with her. The pain almost becoming comforting at times. “Clever boy that you are, Percival. You know that this stubbornness isn’t needed.” _

_ He licks his lips. “So sorry to disappoint you, Anna.” _

_ Approval blooms warm in a corner of his mind and for a moment he can almost feel something like a hand gripping his own in the dimness of the room.  _

_ He’s not sure how long it’s been like this. It’s hard to keep track of the days without the light of the sun and only able to use the guard shifts as a reference point. His mate has not left him in the entire time he’s been down here though. The connection has fluctuated in strength but remained a constant presence in his mind. _

_ They had argued at first. Once he had understood what was going to happen he had tried to push his mate out of his mind as he had done once before. It hadn’t worked this time. They had railed and fought against them, their mind scrambling for purchase in Percy’s until he had finally snarled, “Stop it! Be logical, we don’t  _ both _ have to go through this. It isn’t a fucking contest.” _

_ “I know.” the reply had been matter of fact and as he had felt his mate dig harder into his mind, numbing his body to the blade slicing through skin. He had felt a tenderness that had forced him to shut his eyes against the tears threatening to fall. _

_ “You can pull the martyr shit all you want but I’m not leaving you.” _

Percy’s lungs ached with the strain of holding his breath. His skull pulses with pain with every heartbeat. Her opens his eyes.

_ “For you,”  _ he thought. “ _ One more try. Just for you.” _

In the darkness of the river, Percy de Rolo began to swim.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost there. Stillben awaits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH!!!!! ANIMATED BRIARWOOD ARC!!!!!!  
> Ahem... sorry. But seriously, I'm over here dying from the love I have for this community.

(Vax)

It’s been over a year and yet there are times that Vax will catch sight of himself in a pane of glass, or water, or some  other reflective surface and he’ll surprise himself. They’ll be a brief moment were he think it was someone else standing behind him. 

His face has not changed, except perhaps his eyes have grown even more solemn then they were before. It is still the mirror to Vex’ahlia’s that it has always been. But his hair…

He will never forget the look on his sister’s face when he’d finally come to consciousness. After the terror had faded her expression had been that of someone looking at a stranger. They’d been camped near a small stream and she had drawn him over to it with gentle hands. He’d had to brace himself as he’d looked into it. Fighting back the phantom feeling of water filling his lungs. The hair that framed his face had been the same straight, thick locks that they had been before. Save that it was now the pale white color of new fallen snow.

 

Vax catches her looking at it sometimes, his sister, his twin. He wonders sometimes if she resents it. She has never said so, but he wonders. He wonders if it’s for another reason then the pain it represents.

It shouldn’t matter that they look less alike but perhaps she sees it as another barrier that their soulmates have made between them. 

She’s spoken less and less of her own mate in the year since that night.

Vax wonders when their childhood roles had been reversed. Perhaps it had been that night or years before when he had first felt his soulmate being born while Vex, being the younger of the two, had never felt that. He wonders if that had been when she’d begun isolating herself from everyone but him. Something that had been compounded by their stay in Syngorn. Vex’ahlia turning inward as she had become more cynical and Vax becoming less trusting but more protective. Channeling everything he had and was to his sister and his mate while Vex had learned to count only on the immediate present and not hope for the future.

Standing on the marshy outskirts of a town called Stillben he pulls up his hood to cover his pale hair, his fingers lingering on the pale strands. He misses his dark hair sometimes. He’s forced to hide the distinctive color under his hood more often than not. Vex had suggested he dye it if it was going to be so much trouble. 

He had only tried it once. It had felt somehow wrong, a betrayal of sorts to the intimacy born of pain and trauma that he and his mate had shared. And in any case it still hadn’t matched his sister’s hair. If nothing else, it at least made him look less like their father. A small blessing at least.  


 

* * *

 

(Percy)

Percy’s head spun as he was shoved roughly into the cell so abruptly that his shoulder slammed harshly into the opposite wall of the small chamber. With his wrists and ankles manacled he had no real way to break his fall so there was an unpleasant laugh as he went to his knees as the cell door slammed shut.

Whether the three men who had ambushed him were paid off town guard or private mercenaries, Percy didn’t know for sure but it probably didn’t matter. It would all be the same for him if they caught Ripley before she left town and told her about a certain man with a very strange weapon who had been apparently very intent on her trail.

It had been a foolish mistake on his part to go after her as he had but he’d had no choice. He’d only known that she was leaving Stillben that day with the intention of traveling with a large trade caravan. He knew he would be unlikely to catch her on her own without involving innocent lives so he had acted recklessly.

_ Stupid,  _ he thought. Stupid to assume that the woman would not have ensured some measure of security during her stay. 

He was not alone with his own thoughts at least. He felt the throbbing in his head dull in a warm wash as his mate brushed carefully across his mind. They had felt Percy’s frustration and anger as Ripley has slipped from his grasp. They’d been startled by it and he couldn’t blame them. Though their bond had grown stronger after Percy’s experience with the Briarwood’s and Ripley; for a very long time Percy had rarely been the one to initiate contact though strong emotion. 

For a very long time his life had been something he’d experienced in a strange haze. A fog that strange things crept in, but did prevent the worst of the memories from drowning him. If not for his soulmate’s constant and stubborn contact he’s sure he would have gone mad. Maybe he had a little, for a time.

Recognition flickered across the bond as his arms ached as he tried to roll his shoulders back to lessen the pressure on his wrists. It was followed by concern tinged with a hint of amusement.

“I’m glad  _ you _ find this entertaining,” Percy mumbled.

Leaning back against the wall he closed his eyes for a moment. He might have a chance if he could at least get his hands in front of him. Though metal, the door was not the  _ most _ well constructed thing he’d come across.   

Head thumping lightly against the stone of the cell wall he stared up at the ceiling. He’d have to wait. That at least he knew. Anyone left to guard him would be on high alert for a couple of hours before they started getting bored. And then if he got out… what? What was next? He’d lost Ripley after months of work and she’d been the most likely to be caught on her own. He’s heard nothing of the Briarwoods or Whitestone in the past two years so he had no way of knowing what he’d be walking into if he tried going back. The mere thought of his home sent a cold churning feeling through his gut. There was the other consideration. That he would not be the only one he’d be putting in danger if his next move was a reckless one. 

He knew that what Ripley had done to him had hurt both of them and it scared him to imagine what his death would do if his mate clung to him as fiercely as they had done before. Their bond had grown stronger since then and he had no idea what the backlash would do now. 

He wished he’d listened more closely to the romances that Whitney had liked so much, trite as he’s found them. Or better yet to the dry fables the priest of Erathis had described. 

Focusing on the fading aches in his body he sent out a light tendril of thought out across the bond. As close to a caress as he could make it. As close to a promise as he could make it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Percy, you fool. It's. A. Door!  
> Of course you don't stand a chance.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Let me start out by apologizing for how long it's been. Long story short it's been a rough few months on my anxiety prone depressed ass brain and it's been really hard to get the motivation to sit down and write for a while. I will be doing my best to get myself back into a groove so hopefully I can finish this fic before moving on to TCoF.  
> Thank you all so much for your amazing comments and support.

(Vax)

There are a myriad of small shithole towns that Vax had grown inordinately fond of over the years. There are also even more small shithole towns that he would rather eat boot leather for a week then ever see again.

He’s not sure where Stillben sits on this sliding scale but it’s definitely tilting closer to the later so far.

The image that had greeted himself and his sister upon arriving in the town of a mother being forced the leave her child’s body in the swamp still drifted unpleasantly in his mind. The high amount of both Clasp and Myriad activity in the relatively small port town certainly didn’t improve his comfort with the place.

Still, it was also where they had met the rather unorthodox group they had recently found themselves a part of. It was still a strange experience to wake up every morning surrounded by people he put _some_ measure of trust in apart from his twin. He couldn't help but be grateful to them for Vex’s sake. Though she would never have admitted it, she had needed this. Normal, non-antagonistic relationships were something they had both grown depressingly unfamiliar with.

It had not all been smooth sailing of course. Tempers flared on occasion, with unfamiliar dominant personalities rubbing up against each other. A mild prank war had sprung up almost immediately between himself and the goliath,though Vax would argue that this was not _necessarily_ a bad turn of events. Not as bad a turn of event as _losing_ said goliath had turned out to be.

The low level migraine that had been throbbing though Vax’s skull for the last two days had not helped matters. Nor had Keyleth’s most recent arrest. 

Vax sighed and resisted the urge to start slowly putting his head though a stone wall. To be fair it was one of the easiest jailbreaks he had ever been involved in. The place was larger then one might expect but badly in disrepair with most of the eastern part of the building entirely abandoned.

Honestly, they probably could have had Keyleth and themselves out five minutes ago but… something nagged.

Several of the men he and Vex had spied coming in and out had the look of private mercenaries rather than town guards. People that rarely had much to do with law enforcers if they could help it. Something about it rankled his instincts.

Vax had left the others as they’d reached Keyleth, trusting Vex to the handle the fairly basic mechanism that contained her. He honestly suspected that Keyleth could have simply brute forced her way out herself without their help if she weren’t so nice but since they _were_ here Vax planned to indulge his curiosity. And perhaps distract himself from the phantom aches that pulsed through his body. His wrists were especially sore and his jaw throbbed from what had felt like a roundhouse from an orc. 

He gave himself a shake and slid as quietly as he could along the wall. The place had a damp, musty smell to it. Mold and rot from the surrounding swamp had no doubt found a haven in the dim corners of the jail.

Vax paused, listening. He had reached the lower cells which seemed empty and mostly in disrepair. The door to the very first one hanging off it’s hinges. He could hear the staccato drip of water from somewhere to his right, the soft scrape of his boot against the stone floor, and something else. He frowned, turning his head to try to catch whatever it was right at the edge of what his ears could detect. 

There. It was the sound of air moving through a confined space. A faint whine to it, like the sound wounded animal would make if it didn’t want to be heard. Breathing. It was the harsh sound of pained breathing.

The throbbing in his temples pulsed sharply and echoed in his ribs. Vax went very still. 

Slowly, very slowly he made his way past the first pair of cells, his pulse pounding in his ears. _Don’t be a fool,_ Vax thought to himself. _It’s probably some random bandit or drunk. You’re wasting your time._

His feet at least paid his racing thoughts no mind. Step after halting step carried him forward until he stood before a cell a few rows down from the stairs. The light had grown even more dim the deeper he’d progressed and even with his preternaturally sharp eyes it was difficult to see farther then a few feet ahead of him. 

Still, peering into the deeper corners of the cell he was able to make out uneven lumps of straw, rusted chains, and a slumped figure in the far corner that if he had not heard the faint noise of breathing earlier, he would have assumed to be a corpse. 

 _This is madness._ Some distant part of him registered, dispassionately.

For a minute Vax stood there frozen, mind locked in a frantic circle of hope and denial. Slowly, very slowly, he reached out through his bond. As if In response the pulse in his head sent such a sharp stabbing bolt through his skull that brought tears to his eyes and he gasped. At the exact same moment the form in the corner stirred with a soft pained sound.

Vax’s hands were moving before his brain could even give them permission to. Within seconds his lock picks were in one hand while the other found the keyhole. The lock was not a difficult one, but the heavy rust in the mechanism made one of his tools grind into the metal with an unpleasant shriek. 

The figure jerked upright and Vax got his first clear look at their face.

The man, for it was a man Vax now saw, had frozen, lips slightly parted as he stared at him. Rounded ears mark him as human and his features, though angular and almost hawklike in this lighting are those of someone barley into his twenties. His hair, a mess if pale white.

Vax couldn’t help noticing the way shock softened the human’s features. Lines at his brow and eyes smoothing out, mouth becoming less thin. He was lovely.

The words were out of Vax’s mouth before his common sense had a chance to kick in. “Hello, handsome.”

 

* * *

 

 

(Percy)

Percy stared at the strange individual that had that was now leaning casually against the open door of his cell. 

His features looked elven, with an elegant if rather long, face heavily shrouded somewhat by the hood he wore. The man was dressed all in shades of gray and black with his cloak hinting at a faded grayish purple. Colors meant to fade into the background. Percy blinked. 

“I- beg your pardon?” He asked, polite out of sheer ingrained habit. 

The figure straightened, gave an awkward cough and shrugged. “Well, considering that I was expecting to find some poor lout they tossed in for pissing on some Myriad hideout, you’re a considerable improvement. Much nicer to look at.”

Percy felt his eyebrows raise sharply, then winced as a sharp electric pain shot through his skull. “It sounds-“ he closed his eyes and took a careful breath. “-sounds like you’re speaking from experience. Is that a common occurrence in this town?”

A grin flashed across the other man’s face. The right side pulling up to make the smile a bit crooked. It was a nice smile Percy noted absently, it made his eyes spark. 

“Quite possibly, though the ‘tossed in a cell’ bit came first for some reason for me.”

“I see,” Percy replied dryly. “So… are you intending to stand there and chat until the guards come back? I’m afraid they’re not the most accommodating people, though it sounds like you already know that.”

“Hmm,” the man tipped his head and hummed as if weighing his options. Percy could feel his eyes lingering on the dried blood in his heir and the bruise on his face. “I was actually going to ask what you did, and possibly after that let you out if the answer seems reasonable.”

Percy hesitated, considering his answer. There was a possibility this man was involved with Ripley’s men. Sent to persuade since beating answers out of him hadn’t yielded results. But it seemed unlikely. He reminded Percy more of a freelance mercenary then then the hired goons she had employed before.

“I suppose I was asking after the wrong people.”

“That will certainly do it,”the elf seemed to consider Percy. “Do they deserve it?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well I assume that you were wanting a bit more than a chat with the person that got you thrown in here.” 

_Knives in the dark, scorched flesh, the not quite sound screams make when they are only in your head._

“I thought so.”

“Fair enough.” the man stated apparently unphased as with a fluid movement, swept through the doorway and knelt about a foot away from him, one hand holding a pair of curved lock-picks and the other open palm outstretched. “Mind if I get a name as well? Or should I just keep calling you handsome?”

Percy chuckled. “Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III.”

The other mad stared at him for several long seconds.

“You can call me Percy.”

The staring continued.

Percy was starting to wonder if he’d actually broken his one potential ally then.

“You can call me Vax,” the man, Vax, stated flatly and reached for Percy’s hand. 

Then… the world went white.


End file.
